


Basium

by Anonymous



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast), The College Tapes (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26825296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “I mean, I love legal documents, obviously. That part was genuinely great,” Caitlin says, tracing the letters on her beer label with her fingertip and skillfully avoiding eye contact. “But...some making out somewhere in there would...not have gone amiss.”“Well don’t look at me,” Adam says.
Relationships: Adam Hayes/Caitlin Park
Kudos: 2
Collections: anonymous





	Basium

“I mean, I love legal documents, obviously. That part was genuinely great,” Caitlin says, tracing the letters on her beer label with her fingertip and skillfully avoiding eye contact. “But...some making out somewhere in there would...not have gone amiss.” 

“Well don’t look at me,” Adam says before he can think better of it — and then immediately thinks better of it. “Uh, I mean —” 

Caitlin laughs him off before he can figure out what he was going to say, and just like that the spell of melancholy that had been settling over them dissipates. 

“Ooh, look who thinks he’s such hot shit,” she teases. “You kiss one British boy and suddenly think everyone’s dying to lay one on you.” 

“Can we pretend I didn’t say that?” Adam asks, pained. 

“Not a chance. I am getting every possible mile out of this.” 

He sigh. “Curse that patented Park-brand doggedness.” 

“You love my doggedness,” she reminds him.

They fall easily into their regular dinner pattern, and Caitlin lets him redirect the conversation after a surprisingly minimal amount of joshing. The food is good, and so is the beer, and there are moody storm clouds blowing in that leave their apartment feeling like a perfect, cozy bubble of warmth and light. There’s a glow of contentment in Adam’s chest; he doesn’t get buried in the deep wells of depression anymore like he used to in high school, the kind that fog up his brain and make it hard to remember that times like this exist, but he still grabs onto the feeling out of habit and does his best to commit the details of the experience to memory. 

Caitlin is scooping the leftovers into tupperware, her whole face crinkled up in laughter at whatever dumb thing Adam just said as he shuffles the contents of their fridge around to make space. Tonight they’ll scrunch close together on the couch to watch Netflix on her laptop balanced dangerously on his knees. She’ll fall asleep against his shoulder, and he’ll gently ease off her glasses before guiding her to lay down properly on the cushions before he tiptoes to his own bed. In the morning he’ll do the dishes while she showers, and she’ll complain over breakfast that she slept on her neck weird but adamantly deny it when he reminder her that this happens every week.

It’s all her. This warmth in his chest, this feeling of love and happiness and belonging, he gets it from Caitlin and the careful attention she puts in to keep them well.

“We could, actually,” Adam says. “If you want.” 

Caitlin looks up at him with a question. 

“Make out,” he explains. The phrase implies a heavier degree of physical activity than he can actually imagine, but it’s somehow easier to say than _kissing._ “What I said earlier, I didn’t — I just mean. You can...look at me.” 

Her face goes soft, which is good because he’s only now putting together that there was a non-zero chance that she could have responded to the offer by teasing him more mercilessly. “Oh?” she says. 

Adam realizes his arms are crossed guardedly over his chest, and he moves them to his sides. Totally smooth. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” she says, and then there’s a stretch of waiting before she says, “What, did you mean right now, or…?”

Adam’s heartbeat stutters; he didn’t think this far ahead. “If you want,” he repeats.

There’s a small, surprised smile on her face, and Adam can’t stop himself mirroring it. “Alright,” she says. 

Adam’s never kissed a girl before — _a woman,_ his brain corrects oh so helpfully — but he’s also never kissed someone shorter than him before, and that’s the thing that’s harder to get his brain around as their lips meet at an unfamiliar angle. Everything else about it is almost too familiar. It’s _Caitlin_ — she smells like the hairspray that he’s pretty sure has committed the scent equivalent of permanently staining their bathroom, and her lips stick to his with the texture of the chapstick she lets him borrow when he forgets to bring his to the farmers’ market, and when their mouths open and he passes his tongue over hers she taste like the meal they’d just shared. It’s absurd, suddenly, to think they haven’t done this a million times already. 

She pulls back, but stays close enough that he can still feel the shape of her smile against his own. 

“So, what’s the verdict?” he says. “Better than legal documents?”


End file.
